


Charmed 103: Argus Panoptes

by Metal_Ox137



Series: Charmed AU1 [3]
Category: Charmed (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:30:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metal_Ox137/pseuds/Metal_Ox137
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prue seeks help from an unlikely source in tracking down a demon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charmed 103: Argus Panoptes

Phoebe Halliwell was often thankful that her new job was only part time, but never more so than today. After her friend Paige Matthews had told her of a homicide case wherein three victims were all missing their eyes, all she could really think about was going home and telling Prue. All afternoon, Phoebe tried to assuage her anxiety, telling herself firmly that there was no firm evidence linking these murders to the demon who had kidnapped her. But in her heart, she couldn't dismiss the idea, either.  
Her shift ended mercifully quickly, and as soon as she could, Phoebe bolted for the door. She couldn't go straight home, as she had to pick up Patience, since she had the SUV. Sighing with a mixture of exasperation and worry, Phoebe got in the car and headed for the day care center.  
Patience went scampering into her auntie's arms as soon as she entered the building, greeting her with an impressively strong bear hug.  
"Hey, sweetie," Phoebe murmured, taking her dark-haired niece into her arms. "Careful, your auntie needs to be able to breathe!"  
After signing the pick-up form at the desk, and verifying with the clerk that she was authorized for pick-up, Phoebe and Patience ambled to the parking lot, Patience swinging her auntie's arm vigorously with exuberance.  
"Good day today?" Phoebe asked her niece. "What did you do today?"  
"Waited for my sister," Patience said, intently watching each crack in the sidewalk so she could hop over it.  
"Your sister?"  
"Yeah. Mommy and Darryl tried to call her last night. But she's not ready yet."  
Phoebe arched an eyebrow but didn't attach any great significance to the utterance. Patience would have been born when Prue was still a witch, and still had all her supernatural powers. It was entirely possible that Patience had magical powers of her own - and even in a world without magic, she might still have abilities beyond normal persons.  
Or it could just be babble, Phoebe grinned to herself.  
"When is Auntie Paige coming to visit?" Patience wanted to know.  
"Auntie Paige?" Phoebe laughed. "You haven't even met her yet, and you're making her one of the family?"  
"That's because she is," Patience insisted.  
"Well, that's awfully generous of you," Phoebe replied.  
"You should bring her over soon," Patience declared, hopping another crack in the sidewalk.  
"Oh? And why is that?"  
"Because you can make her happy, and she can make you and mommy happy."  
"Really."  
"You miss each other very much. You just don't know it yet," Patience informed her auntie with the absolute authority that only a four year old child can command, and Phoebe decided she could not and would not argue against it. After all, who wants to argue against more happiness?  
Buckling Patience snugly in her car seat, Phoebe clambered into the driver's seat and smiled. "You're pretty smart for a four year old," she told her niece.  
"And you get to make dinner tonight," Patience added.  
Phoebe grinned. "If your mommy is still dozing, that's probably true," she admitted.  
Prue was in fact fast asleep when they arrived at Prue's apartment. Prue had showered and changed into sweat pants and a hoodie at some point during the day, but was now languidly spread across the length of the couch in tranquil repose, with an art history book left open on the coffee table and a mug of half-finished tea beside.  
Without a word, Patience shrugged out of her coat and boots, carefully hanging her coat on a peg that had been fixed at just her level, and left the boots beside the door on the drying mat. She crawled up onto the couch and into her mother's arms. Prue did not wake but instinctively encircled her child. Patience lay her head against her mother's breast and closed her eyes, and in moments was fast asleep.  
Phoebe could only grin at the sight. "Boy, aren't you two party animals," she murmured. "Guess you were right about dinner, kiddo."  
Any news about demons - or anything else, for that matter - would just have to wait, Phoebe decided. She looked at her sister and her niece sleeping together so peacefully, and her expression softened to something wistful. She would not disturb such tranquility for anything in the world.  
Phoebe padded quietly into the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was quarter to four in the afternoon. As long as the house stayed quiet, and the phone didn't ring, she would let her family sleep until at least five-thirty, at which point she'd start dinner.  
Her family. The thought startled Phoebe. She'd been in San Francisco just barely a full month, but yes, she looked at Prue and Patience, and considered them nothing less than family. Phoebe missed her own sisters desperately, but she now had a sister and a niece here, and even the thought of possibly having to leave them one day left a sharp ache in her heart. As far as Phoebe was concerned, these two were as much her family as the sisters she'd left behind.  
Making herself a cup of peppermint tea, Phoebe stood in the kitchen doorway, watching Prue and Patience sleeping. _I need you,_ Phoebe thought to herself as she regarded them. _I needed you more than I knew. And I am so blessed to have found you at last._  
Phoebe returned to her own room and sprawled on her twin size bed, staring at the ceiling, letting her thoughts wander where they would. She thought of her sisters left behind in the other world - her angry, impatient Prue and anxious, worrying Piper - and yes, she missed them both terribly. The thought of the two of them searching for her in vain brought tears to her eyes. If only she could contact them somehow, to let them know she was safe, to assure them the only pain she felt was missing them - if only that were possible. In a world of magic, such a thing might be possible, but here, in a world emptied of its magic - the chasm between the worlds seemed uncrossable. Phoebe found herself praying intently for the return of magic, even if it allowed her to do nothing more than assuage the otherwise inconsolable grief of her sisters.  
Phoebe put a hand to her cheek and was startled to find she was weeping. Great, mute tears were spilling down both cheeks, evidence of her love for the sisters she had left behind. No matter how often she'd fought with them, or felt enraged by them, the love was stronger.  
_I love you,_ she called out to them silently, praying that somehow the message would reach them. _I love you, Piper. I love you, Prue. I am safe, I am well, but oh God I miss you. No matter how far apart we are, you are never far from my thoughts. I love you, I love you. I love you._  
Shaken, Phoebe sat up, startled to realize she'd dozed off. After insensibly staring at her empty tea mug for some moments, she got up and stumbled into the kitchen. Prue and Patience were still asleep on the couch, but now sleeping on their sides, with Prue's arm protectively draped over her child. The clock in the kitchen announced five-thirty, and the sky outside the kitchen windows was nearly black in the late November afternoon. Time to start dinner.  
Mechanically, Phoebe set about to boil some pasta, then cut up some fresh tomatoes and garlic to add to some store bought sauce. There was still some garden salad left, she would set that out, too. And a loaf of french bread, which she cut into sections, halved, and covered with soft butter and chopped garlic, to be set in the broiler a few minutes before dinner was to be served.  
She had opened a bottle of wine and set out some fruit juice for Patience, when Prue entered the kitchen, bleary-eyed, but awake and smiling.  
"You're making dinner," she marveled. "Thanks!"  
"Have a nice nap?" Phoebe grinned.  
"I did," Prue admitted. "It felt great. I should do that more often."  
She settled into one of the stools at the counter, and Phoebe passed her a glass of wine, which she took gratefully.  
"Is Patience still asleep?" Phoebe asked. "I need to tell you something kind of important."  
Prue sipped her wine. "She'll wake about two minutes before dinner's ready," she assured her sister. "It's a gift."  
"Prue, I was talking to Paige Matthews this morning. She says that Darryl is working a new case. A serial killer."  
"Yeah, he told me," Prue admitted with a shudder.  
"Did he give you any details?"  
Prue shook her head. "He told me he's working on the case, and that he's worried about it, but not much more than that. We try to keep the police work out of our home lives."  
Phoebe bit her lip in worry. "Prue, I think the killer Darryl's after is my demon."  
Prue set her wine glass down. "The one who stranded you here."  
"And the one the shopkeeper warned me and Paige about." Phoebe nodded soberly. "He said, the demon who travels has red eyes, but cannot see. Now, all of a sudden, in just the last month, three people are killed - and all three victims are missing their eyes."  
"They're what?" Prue was aghast.  
"Their eyes were gone, Prue, just scooped out of their sockets."  
"Ugh," Prue shuddered with revulsion.  
"Yeah," Phoebe agreed soberly. "I can't believe this is a coincidence, especially since murders in this version of San Francisco are almost unheard of."  
Prue mulled this over silently.  
"I think the serial killer is the demon, and I think we need to warn Darryl right away," Phoebe pressed.  
"And you also think the only ones who really have a chance of stopping the demon are two witches who have their powers back."  
"I do, Prue, yeah." Phoebe made a moue of anxiety. "Please don't be mad at me," she pleaded.  
"I'm not angry, Phoebe, I promise," Prue said, giving her sister a reassuring smile.  
"Good. Because now I have to show you something that I'm scared will completely piss you off." Phoebe darted from the kitchen. "Be right back."  
She returned to the kitchen a few moments later, with her leather bound volume in her arms.  
"This is the book you picked up at the shop?" Prue asked.  
"Yeah," Phoebe offered the book to her sister. Prue examined the binding and cover carefully. She frowned.  
"I need my glasses," she murmured. "But this looks like a real antique, Phoebe, something that might be very valuable."  
"That's as maybe, Prue, but I really need you to read - what I wrote inside," Phoebe confessed hesitantly.  
Prue fixed her sister with an appraising stare, then came to a decision. "Hold that thought," she said, while she went in search of her glasses.  
She found them on the coffee table, next to her art history book. Patience was starting to stir. Prue kissed her daughter on the forehead and whispered, "Dinner's in fifteen minutes, sweetie."  
"Okay, mommy," Patience murmured, eyes still closed.  
Prue returned to the kitchen with her glasses, parked herself on one of the kitchen stools and examined the book more closely.  
"You need to drain the pasta now," she remarked, without looking up, opening the book to its title page.  
Phoebe froze for a moment as Prue scanned the words that Phoebe had inked into the book's first sheet of paper the night before. Prue looked up, an unreadable expression on her face.  
"Please don't be angry," Phoebe pleaded, almost in a whisper.  
Prue closed the book carefully, got up from her stool, walked over to her sister, and without a word gave her a fierce hug.  
Phoebe was too surprised to react. Prue finally released her embrace, and Phoebe could see her sister's eyes were tearing slightly.  
"Prue...?"  
"Put this away before Patience comes in," she said, her normally husky voice softened to a near whisper.  
"So... not mad, then?" Phoebe asked hopefully.  
"Not mad," Prue shook her head, and gave her sister a tearful smile. "Promise."  
With immense relief, Phoebe returned the book to its place at the bottom of the armoire.  
Dinner was a happy affair, the sisters talking and laughing with an ease neither had felt with the other before - or, rather, with each other's alternate incarnation. Phoebe felt an indelible bond forming between them, and a great, swelling joy filling her heart at the realization. Although Prue and Phoebe had talked easily together since Phoebe's arrival, each had been acutely aware that the other was in fact a stranger. Now, they felt more like real family, and they were grateful to be together.  
The meal was punctuated by frequent giggles and peals of laughter from Patience, who had intuited that the family unit was nearly complete, but, she assured them, more members were yet to come.  
Prue insisted they leave the dishes for a time, and after the meal they retired to the living room, playing with Patience and her dolls on the floor. Patience clearly delighted in having an auntie for an additional playmate, and the playtime continued uninterrupted until eight-thirty, at which point the phone rang and Phoebe genuinely felt like a spell had been broken.  
"Darryl." Prue's voice dropped nearly an octave in its tenderness as she answered the call. "Hi."  
"Uh-oh, kiddo, it's the boyfriend," Phoebe told her niece. "Might be a long call."  
"That's okay," Patience assured her, getting up. "I'm going to brush my teeth now. I have to go to bed soon. Will you read me a story?"  
Phoebe grinned. She'd been reading stories to her niece every night for a month, and neither tired of it in the slightest. "Which one would you like tonight?"  
"Princess and the pea, please."  
"I think we can manage that," Phoebe nodded solemnly, and Patience carefully collected her dolls and trudged off to her bedroom.  
"Are you going to be cooing for several minutes?" Phoebe asked her sister. "Because if you are, I'm going to do the dishes and put Patience to bed."  
"Thanks, Phoebe." Prue's smile was sun-bright. Phoebe smiled back, marveling how beautiful her sister looked when she smiled like this - radiant, happy, joyful.  
"Are you going to tell him about... you know."  
"Not yet." Prue shook her head. "Darryl, hang on a minute," she said into the phone, and then cradled the receiver against her breast. "I'll tell him in the morning, after you and I have had a chance to talk about this. For tonight, I'll tell him to stay home. He trusts me with those kinds of intuitions."  
"Tell him to stay here, if it will keep him safe," Phoebe said in all seriousness. "He can't get into trouble in your bed." Then she grinned. "More than he already is, anyway."  
Prue playfully waved Phoebe away in mock irritation, and Phoebe returned to the kitchen, smiling but still feeling disquieted.  
Grateful once again for a mechanical task to distract her, Phoebe set about clearing away the dishes, taking out the trash, wiping down the counters and the table, then joining Patience in her room for the nightly ritual of storytelling. Halfway through the story, Prue came to the door and listened as Phoebe related her tale, a subdued smile on her face as she watched Patience snuggle up to her auntie in complete trust and contentment.  
After Patience drifted off, Phoebe put the book away, Prue kissed her daughter on the forehead, and the sisters retired to the living room with another bottle of wine.  
"This is getting to be quite a habit," Phoebe remarked ruefully, as she settled into her favorite chair. She poured one glass for Prue, then one for herself. Prue took the glass and returned to the couch.  
"I don't mind, Phoebe." Prue was utterly sincere. "I really kind of look forward to this - just sitting and talking with you." She smiled, and again, there was something sad and wistful in the smile. "You're very good with Patience. I can't believe you don't have kids yet."  
"Come on, Prue," Phoebe shuddered. "I'm so not ready for that yet."  
"You are," Prue said quietly. "More than you think."  
"Besides, Patience is easy. I don't think I've ever seen a more well behaved kid. You're an amazing mom, to raise her like that."  
"I wish I could take the credit for it. But that's just her temperament. I see Andy in her all the time - his sweetness, his strength, his smile -" Prue's smile turned tearful.  
Phoebe regarded her sister thoughtfully. This version of Prue had endured so much hardship and sadness. And yet, she was stronger for it - and gentler, kinder, more open, almost serene.  
"Tell me about how you met Darryl," she suggested quietly. "I have my version of the story. I'd like to see how yours is different."  
"Well..." Prue sighed heavily, to release her momentary grief. "Andy and Darryl were partners on the force, I think that part is true for both of us. And we - my sisters and I - knew them both for some time." She settled back, making herself more comfortable. "Darryl was Andy's best man at our wedding. After Andy... died... " Prue still could not help but falter over the word. Three years on, the wounds were still barely healed over. "Darryl was so sweet, he would often stop by to check on me. He got divorced the same year that Andy and I got married, so I guess he felt we had similar losses we were trying to cope with."  
Prue smiled sadly. "We had been just friends before, but after Phoe..." she started to say, then stopped herself, and had to visibly work to push away bad memories.  
"Phoebe, if I ever yell at you for something my sister did, stop me... and remind me... that I'm yelling at the wrong Phoebe," Prue could barely get the words out.  
Phoebe, sobered, nodded silently.  
"I was a widow for not quite another year, and Darryl was the only other bright spot in my life, apart from Patience," Prue continued finally. "We would meet for lunch, or at the park, from time to time, just to catch up. One day, he finally asked me if I would like to go a Giants game with him. I said sure, it sounded like fun, and I really wanted to go out and just try to be... happy... for a little while. So I got a babysitter and planned to actually go out on an honest to goodness date, for the first time in years."  
She smiled ruefully. "It was a complete disaster. It rained, it was bitterly cold, we froze. The beer vendor refused to serve us in the middle of our order, when last call was announced. We came home early, paid the sitter and sent her home, had sex on the living room floor -"  
"Prue!" Phoebe burst out laughing.  
"I know, I know," Prue grimaced with embarrassment. "Sex on a first date. It happened with Andy, too. I don't seem to be able to avoid it."  
Phoebe's mouth fell open in delighted astonishment.  
"So, you two have been together for how long now?"  
"Since we first had sex on the floor, you mean?" Prue grinned. "Just over a year now."  
"You guys getting married?"  
"We're promised. We're planning to announce our engagement right after the holidays. We're going to pick out rings together right after Thanksgiving, as a Christmas gift to each other."  
Prue noted Phoebe's look of skepticism. "What?" she asked.  
"I don't know..." Phoebe felt awkward. "You guys don't act like you're at the 'let's settle down' stage. You seem like you're more at the shameless, hot, meaningless, monkey sex stage."  
"Well, don't base that on anything you might have heard last night. We did have an almost month long interruption," Prue laughed. "But no, we're both in nesting phase, I promise."  
"Oh, really?"  
"Seriously," Prue affirmed. "A couple of months ago, I asked him what he would do if I was pregnant. He was actually disappointed. He thought I'd asked the question because I was." Prue smiled at the memory. "That night, we had 'The Talk' about marriage and kids, and he was actually more ready than I was. He even wants to adopt Patience." Prue's face flushed with warmth. "We threw the box of condoms away the next morning."  
Phoebe laughed delightedly. "Prue, I can't believe I'm hearing this from you!"  
"Phoebe, I've been married once already," Prue reminded her. "And I like being married. And being a mom. I know, it sounds weird, coming from me. But Darryl's nice to me, he's nice to my kid, he's attentive to me, he's never raised his hand or his voice to me... and I would like nothing more to have a child with him, a beautiful child that will always remind me of him, the way Patience reminds me of Andy."  
Prue noticed her sister's grin and asked with slight trepidation, "What?"  
Phoebe just smiled. "You. I can't believe how... cool... you are, how open... my Prue... I know, I know, no baggage about the 'other' sisters, but Prue, I could never talk to her. Not like I can with you. We're sitting here, drinking wine, talking about boyfriends and sex and marriage. Prue and I never did that, ever. She never talked to me, except maybe to scold me, because I was never living my life the way she approved... " Phoebe caught herself and halted. "Sorry. I'm doing it again."  
Prue smiled sadly. "Phoebe... from what you've told me, your Prue is six years younger, isn't married, hasn't had a child, hasn't been a widow. She didn't lose her entire family in a single day. Those things make a lot of difference. I fought with my sisters constantly. Ugly, vicious, petty battles. Over stupid, useless things. I think... if you were able to turn back the clock six years... and see me as I was then... I wouldn't be that much different from the Prue you know now."  
"Maybe," Phoebe nodded thoughtfully. She fixed her sister with a sad smile. "But it does make me think, if ever I see them again, I would treat them a lot differently than I used to."  
Prue smiled back at Phoebe, tears welling at the corner of her eyes. "Exactly," she said quietly.  
They paused for a moment, each sipping their wine, each reflecting on their own hearts.  
"So, what are we going to do about this demon?" Phoebe asked finally.  
"For tonight, nothing." Prue could see that Phoebe was about to object. "Tomorrow, I'd like you to go down to the station with me, before we both have to show up at our jobs. Let's tell Darryl and his partner everything we know, so they can be on their guard. They know all about witches and demons. They'll take the threat seriously, and prepare accordingly."  
"And what about the incantation in the Book of Shadows?"  
"We'll try it, on the full moon. Just as we planned. Just the two of us."  
"You don't think it will work."  
Prue looked at her sister with a sad expression. "I'm sorry, Phoebe, I don't. I would like it to work," she added quickly. "Really, I would. But without enough magic, and without Piper..." she sighed heavily.  
Noting Phoebe's crestfallen expression, Prue gave her sister a subdued smile. "We'll try it," she assured her. "I mean, that's all we can do, right? It'll either work, or it won't."  
Phoebe was falling into a blue funk. Prue set down her wine glass, got up off the couch, sat on the edge of the chair and hugged her sister tightly.  
"Hey," she murmured. "Give us the benefit of the doubt, all right? We're Halliwells, we don't give up so easily."  
Phoebe looked up at her sister, her eyes tear-bright.  
"We'll figure something out, Phoebe, I promise," Prue assured her, and then she smiled. "If we can't kick this demon's ass with magic, then we'll just have to kick his ass without it."  
Phoebe snorted at Prue's gibe and returned the hug, a fat tear rolling down her cheek.  
"I love you, Prue," she murmured.  
Prue kissed the top of her sister's head. "And I love you, Phoebe Halliwell," she whispered. "My bright, beautiful, magical baby sister."  
Unknown to either Prue or Phoebe, in the armoire in Phoebe's room, the Book of Shadows stirred itself slightly, and two of the triangles of the triquetra on its cover began to glow with a soft light. 

* * * 

The sisters arrived at the police station shortly after nine in the morning, having dropped Patience at the day care as soon as it had opened. Phoebe had never really been inside a precinct headquarters before, and looked around in curiosity. Prue approached the desk sergeant, who waved them through with a friendly smile. "Morning, Mrs. Trudeau."  
"Good morning, Kev," Prue returned the greeting. "How's Kimberly?"  
"She's doing good. Thanks for asking. Detective Morris and Detective Kershaw are waiting for you in interrogation room three." He handed her two visitor's badges.  
"Thanks." Prue smiled sweetly as she passed. "Hugs to Brooklyn and Brody from me."  
"I'll make sure they get 'em," the sergeant promised.  
As the two sisters made their way deeper into the building, Prue was greeted almost everywhere by officers and support staff, with great warmth and affection. Phoebe made a moue of bemusement.  
"So, are you royalty here, or what?"  
"Hardly." Prue grinned. "I'm the widow of a fallen officer. And likely to marry back into the family, as it were. I'm no more special than anyone else, but this is a pretty tightly knit group. They look after their own."  
"I guess so."  
They arrived in front of a nondescript door, and Darryl Morris, seeing them arrive, hurried over. Prue greeted him with a quick hug and kiss. Phoebe noted that in public Prue and Darryl did not hide their romance, but were circumspect about displaying it in front of others.  
A slightly older, pudgier man with greying temples clasped Prue's hand warmly. "Hey, Prue. Thanks for coming."  
"Hi, Danny. Always good to see you."  
"Phoebe, you haven't met my partner, Daniel Kershaw," Darryl made introductions. "Danny, this is Phoebe Halliwell, Prue's younger sister."  
"You're the sister who can see the future? Hello. Nice to meet you."  
"Oh. Ah," Phoebe took the man's hand, flustered. "Well, I guess I do. Sometimes," she laughed nervously.  
"It's okay, Phoebe," Prue assured her sister. "We can talk freely in front of Danny. He knows all about our witchy ways."  
Kershaw opened the door and indicated they should step inside. "Shall we?"  
"Uh, isn't this one of those rooms where the police beat confessions out of criminals?" Phoebe asked.  
"It's an interrogation room, Phoebe," Prue said in measured tones. The room had one mirrored wall, a long table, and four folding chairs. "Our conversation stays private in here."  
"Please, ladies, have a seat," Kershaw invited, closing the door.  
Prue and Darryl took seats immediately opposite each other. Phoebe, hesitating for a moment, took the seat next to Prue.  
"So, you think we're after a demon," Kershaw started off the conversation.  
"I think it's likely, Danny," Prue nodded somberly.  
"We haven't had anything like that for over three years. Not so much as a drunk leprechaun. So why now?"  
"He's not local. At least, we're pretty sure he's not. He brought Phoebe here - from another reality, as near as we can determine."  
If Kershaw found this response in any way ridiculous, he kept such thoughts to himself. "I didn't want to say anything. I thought you had no more sisters."  
"Phoebe is my sister - just not the same sister," Prue said awkwardly. "It's kind of hard to explain."  
"It's all right. I learned a long time ago to just take your word for a lot of things. Either of you get a good look at this demon?"  
"I'm afraid not," Phoebe admitted.  
"You haven't actually seen him?"  
"No."  
Kershaw shook his head. "I guess I'm missing something, then. What makes you think this nut job we're after is demonic - and that he's your demon in particular?"  
Haltingly, Phoebe recounted her story of having found a strange ring, and how it had brought her to this San Francisco.  
Kershaw was a surprisingly adept interviewer, never leading or prompting, only asking questions to clarify a statement, and careful to keep his tone and demeanor neutral. Phoebe found herself feeling far more comfortable explaining everything that had happened to her, as well as she was able.  
"Your boss, Paige Matthews, she'll corroborate your statement?" Kershaw concluded.  
"Yes, of course."  
Darryl glanced at his partner. "You want we should find the shopkeeper?"  
Kershaw shook his head. "Not yet. We'd need something stronger to prove he has anything to do with this," he sighed. "We get all kinds of ex-sorcerers, ex-warlocks, ex-you-name-it, claiming to see all kinds of shit," he said, glancing at Phoebe. "Most of the time, what they saw came out of a ninety proof bottle. We still don't have what we really need, a description, and we got no prints at any scene, hell - we don't even know if this is a guy, or anything that looks like a guy."  
"I'm sorry," Phoebe said contritely. "I wish there was more that I could tell you."  
"But you think this demon has lost his powers?"  
"I think he's stranded here," Prue nodded. "Phoebe was clearly his target in her reality. But she's been with me almost a full month, and we haven't been attacked, or even approached. That suggests to me that he either can't find us - which is unlikely - or that he has no reason to come after us now."  
"No point in attacking a witch if she has no powers to steal," Kershaw muttered.  
"Something like that, yeah. And if he had just left, I'm guessing you wouldn't have three unsolved murders on your hands."  
"The eyes, what's he need those for?"  
Prue shook her head. "I'm sorry, Danny. I have absolutely no idea. But I would guess he's trying to cope with lost powers, and he's trying to find some way to summon enough magical energy so he can leave. The eyes are part of his escape plan, somehow."  
"You don't think he came here on purpose, then."  
"It's possible his plan involved that demonic vortex we saw last month. When Phoebe and I closed the portal, maybe he was stranded by accident. But that's just speculation. I really don't know. He was clearly after Phoebe before, and isn't now. But while he may be more vulnerable here, he's far from powerless, and incredibly dangerous. I think it's a safe bet he's not done creating victims."  
"Yeah, I was afraid you'd say that."  
"I've consulted all my reference books, and I can't find any mention of a demon who travels between realities - most demons are strictly local, as it were. But I'm going to start going through my contacts, and see if I can find anything at all that could help us."  
"Good," Kershaw nodded. "How to kill him, without getting killed ourselves, that would be top of my list."  
"Well, we wanted to warn you, so you'd be watching out for something... maybe not human."  
"I appreciate that," Kershaw replied with sincerity. "Not the best news I had today, but forewarned is forearmed. I think we'll start treating this perp as a potential warlock, with a full set of magical powers."  
"I think that would be a very good idea, yes."  
"And maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea if you stayed at Prue's for a few nights," Kershaw suggested to Darryl, and then he looked to Prue. "If you're right about this guy, Prue, and he does manage to get any sort of powers back, my money says you and your sister are the first ones he comes looking for."  
"That worries me, too," Prue admitted.  
"Okay, I think we're done here for now. Thanks, Prue. Thanks, Phoebe," he added, smiling at the younger Halliwell. "If you ladies find out anything else, call me - or Prue's squeeze, here. Doesn't matter what time of day or night. I want to get this guy before anybody else turns up in an alley missing a set of eyeballs."  
Darryl walked with Prue and Phoebe back to the main lobby.  
"You don't need to stay at my place to protect me," Prue said to Darryl, as they got ready to leave. She gave him a radiant smile. "But you're always welcome to spend the night. And - share a full body massage?" she added hopefully. "I'll make dinner."  
Darryl returned the smile, but it was subdued. "Sounds great. You be careful," he admonished her. "I'm half tempted to put a team on stakeout in your building as it is. Demon or not, this guy is bad news, Prue."  
Prue slipped into Darryl's arms for a quick hug. "I know. Thanks, Darryl. Call me later, okay?"  
"Absolutely." They shared a quick kiss, and then Prue and Phoebe exited through the front doors of the precinct house.  
As they walked down the steps, Prue noticed Phoebe giving her a knowing smile.  
"He's very good at full body massage," Prue declared. "That is what you were thinking, right?"  
"I didn't say a word," Phoebe protested.  
"You didn't have to," Prue grinned.  
"He's got the magic hands, huh?"  
"Oh, you'd better believe it, sis."  
At the parking garage, they went their separate ways, but not before Prue had pulled Phoebe into a fierce hug. Phoebe was still not used to her older sister being so openly affectionate towards her, but she decided she liked this aspect of her "other" Prue very much.  
Phoebe walked the short distance to the trolley stop, to await the streetcar that would take her to the office, and Prue drove to the auction house. Prue was met in the office reception area by her employer, Rex Buckland, a handsome, rather suave Englishman of youthful appearance - which belied the fact that until very recently, he had been a centuries-old demon.  
"Rex!" Prue smiled warmly as she saw him. "Welcome back! How was London?"  
"Good morning, Prue," Buckland returned the greeting with equal warmth. "And thank you, lovely to be home, as always. Although I never quite get used to what the city has become since the days of the Great Fire."  
"Come on, Rex, after several hundred years, you have to let things change," Prue observed. "It's almost a new millennium. Time to move forward. Embrace the present," she grinned.  
"True, true," Buckland agreed amiably. "I met a lovely demoness this time around. Kaitlyn. Beautiful red hair and able to breathe fire, too. Stunning woman. Rather reminded me of my late, lamented Hannah."  
"Irish?"  
"Ancient Celtic, actually."  
"Ooh." Prue made a mock grimace. "Better watch out, Rex. The Celts are not to be trifled with - especially the ladies and their passions."  
"They are a rather bellicose tribe," Buckland allowed.  
"Couldn't convince her to come home with you, huh?"  
"Alas, no." Buckland's despondent sigh seemed utterly genuine. "No demon still alive would even consider setting foot within five hundred miles of San Francisco - not and risk losing what little power remains to them. Ironic, isn't it."  
"What's that?"  
"The absence of the Charmed Ones has done more to curtail demonic activity, than their presence at the height of their powers ever did." He made a moue of regret. "Still, I often find myself wishing your sisters were still around. The world was a far better and richer place, when they were still in it."  
"Thanks, Rex," Prue smiled at the unexpected compliment. "Of course, you realize that if the world had all its magic back, I'd be forced to kill you."  
"Would you?" Buckland seemed chagrined at the thought. "I hope that's no longer true."  
"Well, if you turned back into a demon, what other choice would I have?"  
"It's funny you should mention that."  
"Why? Don't tell me you've got your demonic powers back." Prue was suddenly alarmed.  
"No, no, nothing of the sort," Buckland assured her. "In fact, I think it's fairly safe to assume I am and shall remain powerless for the remainder of my human existence." He let out a dejected sigh.  
"Please don't take this the wrong way, Rex, but I prefer you as you are now."  
"And it is precisely that I wanted to talk to you about. Would you mind stepping into my office? This is business," he added, noting Prue's questioning look.  
Buckland's private office was austere, but commanded a spectacular view of the bay. A massive oak desk with a leather chair dominated the far end of the office, but in the corner nearest the window sat a low, round table and some comfortable chairs. Rex indicated to Prue that she should sit, and he poured her a cup of coffee from the urn on the settee.  
"Prue, are you happy working here?" he asked, as Prue took the coffee mug from his hand.  
Prue made a moue of bemusement. "That's a rather odd question, coming from you."  
Rex settled himself into the opposite chair, cradling a coffee cup of his own. "I realize that when you first came to work here, I had false pretenses in hiring you," Buckland allowed. "However, as things worked out, I became mortal, and the object of stealing the powers of the Charmed Ones was rendered forever moot. In spite of our initial animosity, in the time since, I flatter myself that we have established not just a good working relationship, but a good personal relationship."  
Prue regarded him critically.  
"We make a good team, don't you think?" Buckland pressed.  
"Yes. We do," Prue admitted.  
"Buckland's has become a going concern in the last five years, in large part to our combined efforts. And if we keep on in this direction, the company stands to become not just profitable, but a significant player in the art auction business - not to mention rather wealthy."  
"Agreed," Prue said cautiously, not quite sure where this was leading.  
"I have a confession to make, Prue. When I was in London, I wasn't there just to secure the Sotheby's contract. I had ulterior motives. I made a personal appeal to the board on your behalf."  
He took a cream-colored manila envelope from the table and handed it to Prue.  
"I realize you celebrated a birthday, while I was away," he said. "And perhaps it's not a traditional gift, but in the spirit of the belated occasion, Happy Birthday, Prue."  
Bemused, Prue opened the envelope and took out a sheet of paper. She reviewed the content quickly, and looked up at Buckland, with an expression of sheer incredulity.  
"Rex, does this mean what I think it does?" she asked.  
Buckland smiled. "It means, if you agree, you are no longer an employee of Buckland's." He steepled his hands and put his index fingers just astride his chin. "Full partnership, Prue. Buckland's would no longer be the place where you work. It would be the business you own. And, as such, the lioness' share of the profits."  
"Rex, this is a sixty percent controlling share."  
"Yes, that strikes me as about right," Buckland nodded. "That's commensurate with the amount of work you do. And the contract empowers you with full executive authority to direct the operations of the business. Apart from myself, you've done more than anyone to make Buckland's a legitimate and profitable enterprise. It's only right that you be able to reap the rewards of that success. It is your success, after all."  
"Rex, I don't know what to say."  
"Well, Prue, my intention is not just to reward you, but to give you the opportunity to reward us both. This is enlightened self-interest. By giving you this authority, I truly believe Buckland's can become a pre-eminent business within the industry. If, of course, it's something you want."  
Prue shook her head slowly. "Rex, I need time to think about this."  
"Then, by all means, do. The offer is sincere, Prue, and it's legitimate. And please have your solicitor - pardon, your lawyer - review it and make sure everything is to your satisfaction." Buckland smiled. "And lest you fear there may be some magical red ink in there, binding you to me as witch-slave to a demon, I assure you there is no such thing - but please feel free to satisfy yourself on that account, as well."  
"Rex, I'm - I'm overwhelmed," Prue admitted.  
"There's no hurry, Prue. Take the contract with you. Have it inspected, legally and magically. I assure you, the offer is genuine."  
"Thank you."  
"You're quite welcome."  
"Wow," Prue shook her head, smiling. "This is not what I expected when I came to work today."  
"Not an unwelcome surprise, I hope. I think we've both had quite enough of those kinds of surprises."  
"Since you mention unwelcome surprises, Rex, there's something I need to ask you."  
"Fire away."  
"I think there is a new demon in San Francisco."  
"Is there, indeed." Buckland was all attention.  
"I also think he's from outside our reality as we know it."  
"Now there is a marvel."  
"Rex, I'm serious."  
"Sorry. Please. Do carry on. I am in fact quite interested."  
"I can't say for certain, but I think this demon's power is the ability to travel from one reality to another."  
Buckland frowned.  
"You don't think that's possible?" Prue asked.  
Buckland made a moue of bemusement. "Possible, yes. But not bloody likely."  
"Have you ever heard of a demon with that kind of ability?"  
"Frankly, no. Most demons I'm familiar with fall into one of two classes: inept thugs or Machiavellian power worshippers. Nearly all of them could blink, of course. But one who travels between worlds..." he broke off, musing.  
"There's something else, maybe something important. Since he's been here, this demon has been stealing the eyes of his victims."  
"I beg your pardon?"  
"The eyes, Rex, he steals his victim's eyes."  
"Ah. Now, there are several classifications of demons, and even some humans, with that attribute. Grimlocks, for one."  
"Yeah, but Grimlocks steal the gift of sight, not the physical eye. We're assuming - by we, I mean myself and the police detectives assigned to the case - think this demon arrived here in our reality by accident, and when he did, he lost his powers."  
"A reasonable assumption. The magical vacuum would have just sucked his abilities from him almost immediately."  
"If that's the case, why is he stealing eyes?"  
"Well, that's obvious, isn't it."  
"What is?"  
"He needs them to see."  
"Yes, that's what I thought at first, too, but why so many?"  
"Perhaps because... the eyes of a mortal are only useful to him for a limited time? He may have just enough demonic energy that he uses up the eyes in a brief period - or..."  
"Or what?"  
"His original eyes are demonic or magical in origin, therefore don't work in this world..." Buckland mused aloud to himself, thinking. Prue sat back patiently.  
"Or, he needs more than one pair of eyes," Buckland muttered.  
"Sorry, what?"  
"Prue, doubtless you're familiar with the legend of Argus Panoptes?"  
"Sure. Ancient Greek myth. Argus was the guardian of Io, when Hera turned her into a cow. Argus was a creature with eyes literally in the back of his head."  
"Mmm. And in some variations of the legend, a creature with literally a hundred eyes." Buckland rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "What's less well known, at least among mortals, are the descriptions of his progeny. One of them - it was either Argus' grandson, or maybe it was his great-grandson - he was a being comprised of literally nothing but wings and eyes."  
"Sure, the legend about the peacock," Prue nodded. "And how its feathers appeared to have the shape and design of a human eye."  
"This creature was all-seeing, and, so legend tells it, because of its many wings, could also transport itself anywhere in the blink of - well, an eye."  
"An Argosian." Prue smiled.  
"Tut, tut, Prue," Buckland wagged a finger. "There are Greeks in contemporary Argos who might take exception to you classifying them with the likes of a demon."  
"Yes, but at least now we have a theory to work from," Prue gave him her sweetest smile. "I knew I could count on you, Rex. Your knowledge of the demon world is invaluable."  
"Why, thank you, my dear. Although frankly I'm curious how you came to be involved."  
Prue hesitated, wondering if it was the wisest course to tell Buckland about Phoebe. Yet surely if she said nothing, other ex-demons certainly would. She and Buckland had learned to place trust in each other for mutual benefit. She could only hope that would remain true now.  
"Rex, when you're out socializing in your demon circles, they are going to tell you about a giant vortex that appeared over the city last month."  
"I did hear rumors of such a thing, while I was abroad," Buckland nodded. "But no one had any details."  
"Well, allow me to give you what details I know. The first is, the vortex brought to me an alternate version of my sister Phoebe, from some other reality."  
Buckland leaned back in his chair abruptly, shocked. "By the Pit," he murmured. "Another Charmed One."  
"When Phoebe and I approached the vortex, we got our powers back - temporarily. We sealed the rift, but we believe the demon responsible is still at large in this reality."  
"You don't have your powers now?"  
Prue shook her head. "As soon as the rift closed, our powers vanished."  
"You did the right thing, of course," Buckland murmured, distracted. "All that demonic energy - from another reality - and no demons here to counteract it..."  
"It would have been horrific, especially for you ex-demons."  
"Quite." Buckland could not suppress a shudder. "I think, Prue, I have to thank you yet again for saving the world. Even the demons here might owe you a debt on this one."  
"I'm not looking to collect," Prue retorted dryly.  
"Your sister Phoebe... she is still here?"  
"Stranded here, just like the demon who brought her."  
Buckland frowned. "He brought her here, intentionally? By accident, or design?"  
"We don't know. We do know he was targeting her in his reality. But since Phoebe arrived here, the demon has made no attempt to attack her again."  
"Possibly because he knows that course would be pointless." Buckland mulled that over. "Perhaps he is seeking the equivalent power of three in this reality. That would certainly be enough to send him home."  
"But there's no power of three here, Rex. First of all, there's simply not enough magical energy to tap into. And second, even with Phoebe, we're still a sister short. My Piper's gone, and he didn't bring another version of Piper along with Phoebe."  
"Do you suppose he knew he was coming to a world without magic?"  
"That would be the million dollar question."  
"This is all very intriguing, Prue. And yes, I will make inquiries. For now, I will make no mention of your sister. Any demon with any intelligence knows that one and one do not make three - but we can't count on all demonic beings for their intelligence." He regarded her critically. "Your sister... does she know about her counterpart?"  
"Not in any great detail, no. I told her that she had become a demon. I kind of left it at that. I still really can't talk about it."  
"Quite. Well, we want to keep her presence a secret as long as we can. We certainly don't want the host of Hell thinking their beloved mistress has returned to them - particularly when the mistress in question has no inkling of her demonic pedigree." He gave Prue a worried frown. "But you need to tell her, Prue. Even if we keep things quiet, sooner or later, some ex-demon somewhere is going to spot Phoebe Halliwell walking around in San Francisco - and what do you think will be the first thought that goes through his mind? Just because these... people... are no longer demons doesn't mean they aren't appallingly dangerous. If nothing else, you would certainly want your sister to be able to bluff her way out of a potentially threatening situation."  
Prue heaved a sigh of relief. "Rex, thank you. I was hoping you could help."  
"I will do what I can," Buckland assured her, and then he smiled warmly. "See?" he said. "Demons, magic and art - we make a good team."  
Slowly, Prue returned his smile.

* * * 

Phoebe Halliwell and Paige Matthews were sitting in the lunch room of their office, contentedly munching on rice and steamed vegetables. Phoebe was relating to Paige her conversation with the police that morning.  
"Anyway, Detective Kershaw - or maybe Darryl - might stop by to have you confirm the story," Phoebe concluded.  
"So you really think this murderer has something to do with you?" Paige asked. "Why?"  
Phoebe sighed, putting down her chopsticks. There was no explaining her suspicions without diving in headfirst. "Paige... what would you say, if I told you I came from another reality?"  
Paige snorted. "I already know you come from another reality, Pheeble," she teased gently. "I don't think you could have a normal day if your life depended on it."  
"Okay, guilty as charged," Phoebe grinned ruefully. "But it's really true, Paige."  
"I'm listening."  
"You remember the stories about that weird waterspout that showed up over the city a few weeks ago? You might have even seen it yourself, if you were out and about that day."  
"Yeah, freak weather disturbance, right. What about it?"  
"Well... that waterspout is how I got here."  
Paige fixed Phoebe with an appraising look. "You sailed into San Francisco on a waterspout. So, you're a mermaid as well as a witch?"  
"It wasn't just a waterspout. It was... some sort of mystical vortex between realities. I was... taken... from my home, in another place and time, and dropped down here, into a different version of San Francisco."  
Paige took a sip of her tea. "You know, I don't know what's weirder," she said finally. "That you're telling me this story, expecting me to believe it, or that I actually do believe it."  
"It's all true, Paige, I swear it is." Phoebe gave her companion a pleading look. "In the San Francisco where I came from, for example, everyone has portable phones - phones with no cords or wires, smaller than your lipstick case, which you can just throw into your purse and you can talk to anyone, any time, no matter where you are."  
"Now, that would be handy. Have you talked to the phone company about this?"  
"Paige, I'm serious."  
"I know," Paige assured her. "I know you are. It's just that - I really do believe you, and I don't know why I do, I just do. And... I'm cracking jokes because it scares me a little bit. Makes me think I've been sipping the sauce again."  
When Phoebe frowned in puzzlement, Paige set down her teacup and her face flushed with embarrassment.  
"I'm, ah, a recovering alcoholic," she admitted in a low voice. "Not that there's any such thing. Okay. I'm an alcoholic. Who's trying not to drink any more. There. I said it." She sighed heavily. "You know, since we're sharing deep, dark, demonic secrets about our lives, and everything." Paige gave a Phoebe a sorrowful smile. "Still want to hang out with me?"  
Phoebe felt a pang of sympathetic pain, and mimicking Prue's gesture of empathy, she reached over and gave Paige's hand a gentle squeeze.  
"Apart from my sister, there's no one I'd rather hang out with than you," Phoebe declared with utter sincerity.  
Paige smiled sadly, and took a long swig from her teacup. "Thanks," she said at last, her voice dusky with emotion. "You really are a sweetheart. Totally nuts, though. But sweet."  
Phoebe giggled. "That's a start."  
"So, your sister Prue, is she from another dimension too?"  
"Nope. She's definitely local."  
"And she didn't just happen to notice that she had this new, multi-dimensional witch sister breezing in?"  
"Oh, I think it's safe to say she noticed, all right," Phoebe grimaced. "I happen to be an exact duplicate of her sister who died three years ago."  
Paige digested that comment silently for a moment. "You know, this conversation is getting way too weird for just one pot of tea at work," she decided. "This really should be a two bottles of wine plus while sitting in the living room kind of conversation. Which is really a problem for me, since I can't drink wine, and we're not in a living room."  
"I'll be happy to drink green tea with you until we both float away," Phoebe grinned. "And... thanks."  
Paige frowned in puzzlement. "For what?"  
"I think if I'd told this story to anyone else, they'd've got up from the table, and asked me to not come within fifty feet of them ever again."  
"Yeah, well, we all have our problems, don't we?"  
"Look. How about this," Phoebe suggested. "This weekend, you and I go clothes shopping. It's almost Thanksgiving, there will be all kinds of sales going on. No demons, no magic talismans, no talk of booze or other dimensions, no occult shopkeepers with cryptic sayings. A guaranteed, totally non-weird day of going into stores and trying on clothes, and maybe even buying some."  
"Sounds pretty great," Paige nodded.  
Phoebe looked up at the clock and sighed. "Do we really have to go back to work?" she moaned. "I could sit here all day and talk with you."  
Paige's expression became utterly serious. "I know that sometimes it seems we're just pushing paper," she admitted. "A boring clerical job. But it's important work, Phoebe, I promise. I wouldn't even be here now, if not for people in an office like this one. I made a lot of mistakes when I was younger," she admitted, her voice lowered. "I got into serious trouble. Throw your life away kind of trouble. And it was people in an office just like this one who saved me."  
Paige regarded Phoebe critically. "You know, if it wouldn't put you off completely, I think I really would like to tell you my life story sometime." She wrinkled her nose teasingly. "It's only fair, since you shared yours. Miss Twilight Zone 1999."  
"Come home with me tonight," Phoebe said impulsively. "Meet my sister. Have dinner with us. Tell me all about your life. We can stay up late, and drink tea, and tell each other stories all night."  
Paige seemed genuinely moved by the offer. "I've never had a friend quite like you, Pheeble. You really are one of a kind."  
"So, is that a yes?" Phoebe pressed.  
Paige hesitated, then nodded vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, that's a yes. I'd like that. Thanks."  
"Okay then." Phoebe grinned. "I'll call my sister when I get back to my desk, let her know to expect company tonight. She won't mind," she added. "She's been asking to meet you. I've been telling her all about you. Oh, anything you can't or won't eat? Vegan, food allergies, anything like that?"  
Paige shook her head. "I just try to stay away from beef, pork and booze. And sushi. And unprotected sex." She made a face. "Other than that, I'm up for just about anything."  
"I think we can take care of that," Phoebe laughed.  
Phoebe called her sister as soon as she returned to her desk, and Prue seemed not only amenable to the idea, but pleased.  
"Darryl is coming for dinner, and staying the night," Prue told Phoebe. "Actually it will be kind of nice, to have a full group of adults around the table for a change."  
"Thanks, Prue. You're going to like Paige. She really is amazing." Phoebe paused. "Ah... one thing, though. No wine, no beer."  
"AA?" Prue guessed.  
"Close enough," Phoebe admitted.  
"Not a problem. We have sparkling cider, and every kind of tea imaginable."  
"I love you," Phoebe declared.  
"I love you too, Phoebe. See you tonight. 'Bye."  
Prue had already collected Patience from the day care center and was busy with sous chef in the kitchen, when Phoebe and Paige arrived at the apartment.  
"Come on in," Phoebe invited Paige. They stepped into the living room, and Prue came out from the kitchen to say hello, wiping her hands carefully on a towel. As Phoebe closed the front door, the lights in the chandelier began to flicker. Gossamer strands of soft glowing light, like fireflies, began to slowly circle around the fixture.  
"What the -?" Phoebe breathed, scarcely believing what she was seeing.  
As the three women watched, the refracted light spilled downwards, suffusing each of them in a warm, white glow. The aurorae faded, and Paige looked around her in bemusement.  
"Uh, maybe you guys ought to have an electrician come check out your wiring," she suggested, and then looked up to see the two sisters staring at her open-mouthed.  
"Beached fish contest?" she asked.  
"Oh. My. God," Phoebe breathed. "Prue, you saw that, right?"  
"I saw it," Prue swallowed hard.  
"Uh, guys? What's going on?" Paige asked nervously.  
"Paige..." Phoebe faltered, not knowing where to start.  
"Okay, let me guess. That light's not normal?"  
"Oh, it's normal," Phoebe assured her. "It's very normal. If you're a witch. But not just any witch."  
"What does than mean?" Paige demanded, beginning to wonder if she should be terribly frightened.  
"It means that you're welcome here," Prue said soothingly. She held out her hand in greeting and gave Paige her warmest smile. "Hi. I'm Prudence Trudeau. It's so nice to finally meet you. Welcome... to the Halliwell coven."


End file.
